“How many of them do you have?” he asked. “Rosy childhood memories, that is.”
Kim turned away so that once more all he could see was her unyielding profile. “Enough,” she said tersely. “I have enough of them.”
He wondered about that. He’d been doing a lot of wondering since meeting Kim yesterday. Having a case file on her was one thing. But actually sitting here next to her, sensing the vulnerability underneath her caustic demeanor, that was something else entirely.
He reminded himself that maybe she wasn’t vulnerable at all. Maybe she was coldhearted, cold—blooded, and she’d actually killed her own husband. She certainly had motive: as a widow, she had become a very wealthy woman indeed.
Michael rubbed at a kink in his shoulder and silently cursed.
“You don’t want to be here any more than I do,” Kim said, glancing at him. “You look…disgusted.”
“The Bennetts aren’t anything I can’t handle,” he said, his tone only slightly mocking.
Now she gave him a challenging look. “Let’s make this fair, Michael. What would you be doing right now, if you had the choice?”
Somehow that didn’t take too much thinking. Michael’s gaze dropped to her mouth. He noticed that her lips had a determined set, but he suspected they could be soft and inviting, too.
He saw the faint blush tingeing her cheeks, and that only made her dusting of freckles seem more appealing than ever. When he captured her gaze, she didn’t look away. Almost against his will, he kept imagining what he’d like to be doing right now. It was a pretty safe bet she knew what he was thinking. Her flush deepened as she stared back at him. The atmosphere between them seemed to grow taut, suspenseful. Michael kept imagining.
“Stop,” Kim murmured, her voice just a little unsteady. And then she turned, opening the door and sliding out of the Jeep. The moment was broken almost before it had begun.
Michael felt dissatisfied in a way he couldn’t explain, but he came round to escort Kim up the walk to the house. They reached the portico and Kim rang the bell decisively. She held herself stiffly, as if preparing to fend off some sort of assault. Who were these Bennetts that they could produce such a reaction in her? Michael gave in to another impulse he couldn’t explain, and for just a second placed his hand on Kim’s arm. She gave him a skeptical look, but maybe she accepted the unspoken support he was offering her. Now he just had to figure out why he was offering it.
A maid finally opened the door, ushering them into a rather cavernous living room. The few people standing about only emphasized the space. Michael saw the pride in Kim’s expression, the unabashed tilt of her chin. No matter what she might be feeling inside, she knew how to disguise it with a haughtiness that was surely worthy of any Bennett.
From long experience, Michael knew how to assess a situation quickly. He did so now, observing that the people in the room were divided in two separate clusters; no easy mingling seemed to be taking place. Faces turned with covert interest, but no one made a move to come forward in greeting.
Sophie Bennett, however, materialized from another doorway and walked purposefully toward them. If she was displeased to see either Michael or Kim, she gave no sign. Then again, if she was pleased, she gave no indication of that, either. She was a plain woman, with resolute features, but clearly she knew how to work with her looks. Wisely avoiding frills of any kind, she wore a simple yet sophisticated black dress. Although high of neck and long of sleeve, it discreetly emphasized the fact that, at sixty—odd years, Sophie had kept her figure. Her thick red hair waved artfully around her face. It seemed a natural shade, almost too natural, perhaps, as if Sophie Bennett watched vigilantly for gray hairs and obliterated them as soon as they appeared. And so, although she didn’t possess beauty or any real charm, she had nonetheless cultivated a striking elegance that seemed to defy time.
“Kim.” Sophie approached her daughter-in-law. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
“Here I am,” Kim said, still with that edge to her voice. “Of course you know Michael. your new tenant.”
“Of course. How convenient that you could join us, Mr. Turner.” She made the word “convenient” sound distasteful, as if he had done something underhand to get here. So far in his short acquaintance with Sophie Bennett, Michael had figured he could either be amused or irritated by her. Amusement took less effort.
“I hope you’re finding the house satisfactory,” she went on.
“It’s adequate,” he said, and Sophie’s forehead creased a fraction. It probably wasn’t good form to tell Sophie Bennett that something she’d provided was merely adequate. But Michael never had been one for good form. He caught Kim’s eye and wondered if he saw a hint of approval.
“If anything is. unsatisfactory, I trust you will let me know immediately,” Sophie said. Then she turned to Kim. “Will you introduce Mr. Turner around, or shall I?” It sounded like a command, not a question.
“I’ll do the honors,” Kim answered. “He’s my guest, after all.”
Sophie stared hard at Kim, as if looking for signs of insurrection. Kim stared right back at her.
“Very well,” Sophie said. “Make sure he meets everyone. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Turner.” And with that, Sophie turned and walked purposefully off again.
Kim watched her go. “You really must be on Sophie’s good side,” she said in a low voice to Michael. “She actually put out the welcome mat for you.”
“That was the welcome mat?” he asked dryly. “She kept looking at me like I was last night’s garbage moldering on the stoop.”
Kim almost smiled. Almost, but not quite. “I guess you don’t know Sophie very well. She wouldn’t bother to play hostess if she didn’t like you.”
Sophie Bennett’s idea of playing hostess was a little limited. She was throwing this party, or whatever the hell it was, and yet she seemed to have made no concessions to her guests: no music playing in the background, no drinks being served, no plates of hors d’oeuvres being handed around. Apparently Sophie didn’t even find it necessary to be present in the room. She’d made that brief, regal appearance of hers, then simply gone off somewhere else.
“We might as well begin,” Kim said. “Which of the two sets of Bennetts do you want to tackle first?”
“Is that how they’re arranged—in matched sets? You make them sound like plates of dinnerware.”
She gave him a keen glance. “Actually the Bennetts do travel in sets—when they come to this house, at least. They know there’s safety in numbers. You’ll rarely find one of them alone—not while Sophie’s anywhere near.”
Sophie Bennett appeared to be a formidable woman, but did she really inspire such trepidation in her family? Perhaps Kim was simply exaggerating for reasons of her own. Michael already sensed that the undercurrents between Kim and her mother-in-law were murky and complex. Add the rest of the Bennett clan, and who knew what you’d end up with.
But Michael didn’t want to think about Bennetts right now. He was still distracted by Kim, by the way she looked tonight. The sun—streaked ripples of her hair falling to her shoulders, the warm creaminess of her skin, the shadowed blue of her eyes.
She gazed back at him, consternation flickering across her face. “You’re doing it again,” she whispered fiercely.
“Doing